by Mia Moore
I can hear her coming to the door. “Who is it?” The tone of her voice is guarded, tremulous.
“It’s Mike, the Super. Can I talk to you?” Why the hell is my heart thumping in my chest? It wasn’t the stairs; I could run twice that far, with a heavy knapsack on my back, although there’s a burning in my side thanks to Billy.
“Go away or I’m calling the cops….or the management, to have you fired!”
Jesus, did she have to say it so loud? I’m sure Olga must have heard it.
“You don’t understand. I’m not going to hurt you. That guy, the bum—“
“Yeah, yeah…He was loitering outside YOUR building. Can’t have that can we? You’re a fucking bully and that’s all there is to it! Now get lost and NEVER knock on this door again!” She accentuated the ‘never’ with a thud on the door, probably her foot kicking it.
“Look Tara, I’m not like the guy who carved you up. I’m not a thug or the pig who owned the restaurant. You can trust me.” I wait for her to say something, unlock the door but there’s nothing, not even the sound of her walking away.
Finally, I give up and walk back to the stairwell, this time walking slowly down to my apartment. Why should I care what she thinks of me? I know the truth and that’s all that matters or should matter. I glance at my watch. She was probably getting ready for whoever is visiting her. He or she would be there in half an hour.
Fuck her. I leave the stairwell and go back to my apartment. Just enough time to feed Sarge, get a bite to eat myself and then watch the show. I can’t wait to see who she’s got coming over…probably some faggoty fashion friend.
Chapter 17
A half hour later, after checking the other monitors—nothing much happening tonight that I’m gonna miss--I settle in, facing the monitor, watching Tara’s living room. I adjust the volume as she walks to the intercom phone.
“I’ll be right down to let you in.” Just before she goes downstairs to let the guy in she puts a silk scarf over her face. Okay, then it’s not someone she knows all that well maybe. “Fucking building. The asshole can’t even fix the buzzer?” Great, now she’s talking to herself. “No, he’s too busy beating up homeless guys and scaring the shit out of people.”
She’s out of sight when she leaves the apartment. What the fuck! She never told me the buzzer didn’t work. I’d have fixed it if the bitch had said anything! Asshole? She called me an asshole?
I click on the mouse to bring up the entranceway and foyer and watch her let some guy in.
No way it can be a boyfriend. He’s an older guy; he must be pushing fifty. Is it Tara’s father? Or maybe an uncle? I don’t have sound pickup in the entranceway, so I can’t hear what they’re saying to each other as they get on the elevator.
A few minutes later Tara lets them into her apartment. I turn up the sound and watch.
She gestures to him to come in and closes the door behind him.
“Thank you for seeing me, Tara,” he says. He’s wearing a sports coat and black slacks.
“Are you still at the restaurant, Antonio?” She steps over to the couch in the living room and sits down, gesturing for him to sit as well.
He nods. “Steve’s brother took over the business when he was indicted. They kept me on, yeah.”
She still has the scarf around her face. This time she wears it snugly; only her eyes peek out like a Ninja. She tilts her head. “Why are you here?”
He’s looking uncomfortable now, his head hanging. “I got a favor to ask.” He lifts his head. “No, a proposal, actually.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Steve’s up for parole in a few weeks.”
She nods. “Yes, I was notified by the District Attorney’s Victim Assistance Office.”
The guy—Antonio?—nods his head. “Well, it doesn’t look too good for Steve. He’s only done four years, and if he doesn’t make parole, he’ll be in for another four.” He holds his hands out, palms up. “Prison’s very, very hard for him, Tara.”
“Good. I’m happy to hear that.”
“No, you don’t understand. He’s a rich white guy in with gang bangers, murderers and all sorts of lowlifes.” He looks away, staring into space. “They’ve… abused him.” He looks back at Tara. “They abuse him all the time.”
“You’re making my day, Antonio.” I can hear the smile in her voice.
He licks his lips. “Tara… I’m not talking about him being shoved around or even the beatings, alright?”
“I’ve seen The Shawshank Redemption, Antonio. I know what you mean. He’s been raped.”
“Gang raped, Tara. He won’t be able to survive four more years. If he doesn’t make parole, he’ll probably kill himself.” He sat up in his seat. “Is that what you want? Do you want him dead? How much of a price does he have to pay?”
“He destroyed my life, Antonio!” She reaches behind her, undoes the scarf and rips it off. “Every damn day I have to look in the mirror! Every damn day!”
He jumps out of his seat and hangs over her. “You destroyed his life, you bitch! If you hadn’t shown up and cock teased him the way you did, he’d never be in jail!” She freezes when he grabs her by the shoulders. “You led him on, and drove him crazy you cunt! He’s been ruined, and now he’s being raped! If he dies, his blood is on your hands, bitch!”
She’s terrified.
I’m out the door like a bullet, pounding my way up to her apartment, fingers scrambling at the ring on my belt for the master key as I fly up the stairs.
I hit the hallway and hear Antonio shouting through the door. Damn the walls in this building are thin.
I pound on Tara’s door as I jiggle the key in the lock. “What’s going on in there!”
Behind me, Olga has snapped her door open. She’s hollering at me to keep it down, she has a client and this racket has ruined her session. I ignore her and fling the door open.
Antonio stands over Tara, his hands on her shoulders. He looks over at me. The snarl on his face disappears when he gets a look at my face. I’m on top of him before he can say a word.
I grab him by the hair and pull him off Tara. He grabs my hand and I pivot, sticking my leg out and send him flying.
“You get up and I’ll put you in the hospital you fuck.” I turn back to Tara.
She’s frozen solid. Okay, first things first. I step over to Antonio and pull him up by his jacket. I hold him close to my face. He’s horrified. “The next time I see you, I’ll kill you. You got that?” I drag him to the door and toss him out. “I’m counting to three, and if you’re still in front of me, I’ll end you. One!”
He takes off, racing down the stairs, his feet slapping the stairs before, crashing through the front door of the building.
I close the door to the apartment and turn to Tara.
Oh Christ she’s so damn tiny.
I cross the room and sink to my knees in front of her. Shit, she’s in shock. I don’t dare touch her; she’s so out of it. I’ve seen it before, the thousand meter stare. After firefights, IED’s and ambushes, some guys bounce around wired on adrenaline; others just freeze up with the shock. Tara’s the latter. You have to call them back to the world. Gently, because inside their head they’re still fighting.
“Tara?” She’s staring off into space. I speak as softly as I can. “Hey… Tara, he’s gone. He’ll never be back. You’re safe now. He’ll never, ever be back.” Lifting Antonio ruptured the stitches in my side; I can feel blood oozing.
My voice is as gentle and steady as I can make it. I keep my hands down on my thighs so she can’t see how they’re shaking with rage. I coo to her, telling her that she’s safe and that I’m here and nobody, no one will ever, ever hurt her again. I tell her she’s so brave; she’s so strong. Over and over I call to her softly, telling her all will be well.
She blinks. It’s the first time she blinked since I knelt beside her. Her eyelids flutter and she’s coming back to the world.
She turns and looks at me. Her eyes fly op
en wide.
“They hurt you too! Oh God, what did they do to you too!” She bursts into tears, her hands covering her face, her broken and wounded beautiful face.
I lean forward and gather her into my arms like a hurt puppy and cradle her into my neck. She flings her arms around me, crushing her face into my chest and bawls. Still on my knees, I rock her back and forth.
She falls asleep in my arms.
As gently as I can, once again I carry her to her bedroom and lay her down on the unmade bed. I pull some covers up over her and creep out of her place back to my own apartment.
I’ll check up on her tomorrow morning and try to talk to her.
Chapter 18
The first thing that pops into my head when I wake is Tara and what I’m going to say. I’ll think about it in the shower. What should I wear?
FUCK! Stop it Mike! This is so NOT what you want—falling for some skinny waif. She’s a tenant, that’s all. Sure, it makes sense to check in on a tenant after something like this…Face it. She hates you, thinks you’re a bully.
Yeah, but that so called bully saved her sorry ass last night. And she did feel safe enough to fall asleep in my arms. That is, if she’s even able to remember it. Sometimes when people go into the head space she was in, things get foggy. We’ll see.
Sarge jumps onto the bed and rubs her face against my nose. The kittens in the closet are also mewling. Enough of the Tara shit. I get up and wander into the kitchen, feed Sarge before turning the coffee pot on for myself. I watch her crunch the kibble as I wait for the gurgle of the pot letting me know it’s ready. Your life is pretty simple, isn’t it girl? Eat, play, feed the kittens, day after day.
Finally the coffee’s ready and I pour a cup to take to the living room. How different is my life from Sarge’s? Every morning I drink my coffee in here and check the monitors. First the old lady. Yup, she’s up and already watching the idiot box. I don’t want to, but I check Tara’s place next. It would make more sense to see what’s happening with Claire or Amanda, there’s usually something sexy going on, but here I am, checking Tara.
There’s movement in her bedroom so I click the mouse to enlarge the view. What the hell is she doing? She stands on a chair, under the ceiling light fixture, fingers above her. As usual she’s nude. Stretched up the way she is, every bone in her ribcage shows. She’s not changing the light bulb; it’s lit, casting a glare. It’s almost like she’s looking for something.
The coffee goes down the wrong pipe and I’m into a coughing spree as I realize. She knows. Oh my God, what did Olga say after I left them? I was there, at her door even before Olga called. She must have heard that and wondered how…
No. I’m being paranoid. She or Olga would never suspect and for sure she’ll never find the camera where she’s looking. Oh fuck, what if she checks the smoke detector? Would she know enough to recognize the surveillance equipment? Jesus Mike. You’d better get up there and do some fast talking, quick.
I gulp the coffee on my way in to the bedroom, set the cup down and thrown my work clothes on. No time for a shower or other niceties this morning, even if I WAS interested in her, which I’m not. Yeah right.
“Later, Sarge.” I hurry out the door and race up the stairs, pause to compose myself and catch my breath standing outside her door.
Again my tell tale, four beat knock--got to look nonchalant. The door opens a crack, only half of her face shows, a fleeting glance of her eye and then the customary chin drop.
“I wanted to check on you after last night. How are you doing?” My voice is too cheerful and rings false even to me.
“I’m fine. Sorry for the racket.”
“You were lucky I was walking by and heard the noise.” It’s hard to tell if she’s buying this. She doesn’t look at my face but stares at the floor.
“Don’t worry, it won’t happen again. Thanks for your help.” This time she glances at me, the corner of her mouth twitching.
“Anytime.” I pause for a beat. “Look Tara, I mean Miss Jones, I think you have the wrong impression of me. That old guy, he wasn’t just an old bum, he was a criminal. I caught him breaking in to Mrs. French’s apartment.” I took a breath. “While she was home. He knew she was home, Tara. What do you think was going to happen to her when he came in through the window?”
He eyes widen as she realizes what I mean.
But only for a second; they narrow again. “Okay, you grabbed an old homeless guy trying to rip off an old lady. Good for you. Why’d you lay a beating on him? That was savage! If he was doing something wrong, you could have called the cops!” The door opens wider and her whole face shows. Her dark eyes squint above the straight line of her lips.
“I did! Just before I went the fire escape after him! Why do you think they got there so fast? I went up after him, grabbed him and pulled him back down to the street. I was just going to hold onto him until they showed up!”
She folds her arms. “That’s not what I saw.”
“You didn’t see everything, Tara. I was holding him by the back of his collar when he spun around. With a knife.” I pull my shirt up and show her the bandage. “He slashed me open. Then he started stabbing at me. I let him go, but he kept coming at me. That’s when I dropped him. But he kept trying to get up.” I let my shirt drop. “And that was when you showed up.”
She doesn’t say a word, just stares at me. The hell with it.
I turn and once more head for the stairs and go back to my apartment. I pour another cup of coffee and sit facing the monitors. My eyes flit to see what she’s doing. She’s back in the bedroom, opens the drawer of her night stand and takes a blue vibrator out. Well, I guess she got over our spat pretty quickly.
She lies down on the bed, holds the vibrator next to her outstretched leg. I’ve seen her do this before and know she’ll lay there thinking before she gets to work with it. Probably fantasizing, getting warmed up.
I click the mouse to zoom in, crank the volume and settle deeper into my chair.
“Are you watching?”
My heart is in my mouth, eyes wide. SHE KNOWS?
“I like it when guys watch me. Too bad you’re not here. That’s what I really want.” Her eyes are closed but for once the pillow isn’t on her face.
Jesus, it could be part of her fantasy but if she says my name I’m fucked. It’s got to be her fantasy talking.
She places the pillow under her ass, spreads her legs wider still. I click the mouse and her pussy fills the screen, so close I can almost taste it—puffy woman lips, fringed with fine dark hair, the tip of her clit peeking through. I rub my hand across my crotch and slide the zipper down.
“What’s that you say, Mike? You want to watch me play with myself?”
OH FUCK! She said my name. She knows I’m watching. Oh my God. My hand stops and I hold my cock that’s deflating by the nano-second.
“Okay Mike.” Her finger slides over her thigh and onto her clit, stroking it softly. “Mmmm…like this? Tell me how sexy this is. How hot this makes you.” Her fingers spread her lips and dip into her opening, slowly draw back to her clit. “Are you masturbating? Is your cock hard?”
My heart pounds in my chest, my mouth dry, but my cock is paying attention to what’s in front of me. Fuck, she knows. She could have me arrested for this.
What would her pussy taste like? The way her clit sticks out, I could drive her wild. My hand massages my cock despite the fear in my gut.
“You want me to use blue? At least until you fuck me with your cock.” Slowly the blue vibrator skims across her tummy, down to her pussy. “It’s a sweet little cunt that you want isn’t it.” The knob of the large dildo enters her and she places the first bead of the anal probe against her ass.
Oh fuck, it’s hot watching her, hearing her say my name. I rub the bead of pre-cum over my knob and down, softly like it was her lips instead of my hand.
She arches her pelvis up, taking all the dildo inside, her fingers pushing the ridges of the probe deeper
in her ass. “Tell me Mike. Tell me to come for you.” She clicks a button and the dildo rolls, vibrating deep inside, the flaps of silicone pressed against her clit. Her hips rock, taking as much of the toy inside her as she can.
“Come for me Tara. Come on, Baby.” The words escape my lips as I watch. My hand flies back and forth on my cock, my hips jerking forward. It’s my cock inside her, pummeling that sweet cunt, making her beg for more.
“Oh Mike…I’m COMING!” Her knuckles are white, she shoves the cock so deep, lifting her ass up off the pillow, jerking her cunt up in throes of lust…
Fantasizing it’s my cock fucking her…oh God yeah…so tight and juicy…hot on my meat…Thick white cum shoots from me…deep inside her…so good….again…she moans and cries for more…
My hand drops, it’s too intense now. She collapses on the bed, her pussy slick when she pulls the vibrator out. I click the mouse and now her whole body appears.
Her arm raises and drapes over her face. “Tara, you’re an….” Her lips are moving but she’s speaking so softly I can’t hear what she’s saying. I click to increase the volume. “……not watching.” She gets up and takes the vibrator with her, walking out of the room.
Of all the times to NOT record a scene, THIS wasn’t the one! I’m no lip reader either! What the fuck did she say? I swear she ended with ‘not watching’. The tone she used…she was scolding herself? Okay she probably called herself an asshole—hell. that was what I called her earlier. All through the sex she said my name. It had to be ‘Mike’s not watching.’ It WAS a fantasy.
Thank you JESUS! I’ll go to church every week now, I’m so grateful. I won’t get arrested or lose my job.
But that whole show she put on? She got hot thinking I was watching her? She likes showing herself, likes a guy telling her what to do when she does it. Oh Christ, this is getting complicated.
